Another day of rain, which means another day of milky sky without distinction. I started to write more about the world outside, the color of the flowers in the lawn, the cold, the way it makes me want to pull the covers over my head. But I re-read that first line, and wondered if I could actually be satisfied with that… a day without distinction. And the answer is no. Because I cannot stand the thought that something as miraculous as the sky, something as unique as another day in this world, should be marked by its nothingness.
So I will try again.
A million prismatic crystals or rain splattered against the windows, driven by wind from the mountains I hear. It brings with it the chill of snow that never quite makes it to me here near the coast, and I shiver in the pale morning. The sky is hidden behind the rain, its clarity obscured by the falling droplets, until the effect is milky, the light all jumbled into a mass of gray. I don't like milk, it is too thick on my tongue and so is this sky on my brain, too thick, too many nuances and conclusions to be drawn.
I do know its value though, understand health and the strength to be gained. I accept it, I know it is for my own good.
Maybe the day, like milk, will improve with chocolate….
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